Bedroom Now
by shercastle
Summary: BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH FIC. You/benedict.


"Are you sure you don't want to come babe? It'll be fun." It's the second time you've asked him tonight.

"No, it'll just ruin your night. You know the Pap's can't leave me alone for 5 minutes." He replies.

"Come pick me up around 1ish?."

"I will do." He says with a smirk.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. I love it when you're tipsy, so mischievous." He winks.

You laugh and step closer to stroke his stubbled cheek. You told him not to shave a few days ago, your beard fetish is undeniable and he knows it.

"You know I'm going to have to shave tomorrow. Sherlock's clean remember?"

You smile at him; his not so subtle reminder that you're dating the best Sherlock Holmes portrayer gets you going.

"I know."

You stand on your tippy-toes and kiss him on the lips twice. He pulls you in closer and purposely rubs up against you. His mouth opens slightly as if you invite you on further. It soon gets heated and you are getting less and less eager to go out with your friends and more and more tempted to stay in and shag him.

He eventually pulls away before anything more can happen.

"Go! I'll see to you when you're home." And with one final grab of your arse he pushes you out the door.

You soon meet your friends in central London at a quite well know bar. The girls are always asking after Benedict. Always the same questions. They're practically dying to get an answer out of you, but you just laugh at their feeble attempts to enquire about his... Well you know.

The night flies by and you soon realise that maybe you've had one drink too many. You pull out your phone from your bag and check your messages. There's one from him and you smile to yourself. It doesn't go unnoticed from your friends.

"What's he saying now?" One beams up.

"Oh shut up Lauren!" You reply with a smirk.

You read the text and smile again.

"We're buying a take away on the way home. I nearly burnt down the flat again, starving! B xx"

The time soon comes when the group you're with dissipates.

"Taxis here, are you coming?" Lauren enquires.

"No, Ben's picking me up." You tell her as you check your phone.

2 am. He should have been here an hour ago. You quickly scroll through your contacts before his name appears and you hit call.

It rings 6 times before it goes to voicemail. Slightly concerned you go to check your texts again. It's unlike him to be this late without telling you so.

Suddenly you feel an eerie presence behind you and before you know it your mouth is being covered by a rather large hand. You try to scream but it's obviously muffled.

You don't know how, but you manage to twist in the man's arms to face him. The terror that was once spread across your face changes to one of relief. He lets go and you punch him in the chest. Not as lightly as you meant.

"You fuck! You scared the shit out of me!" He laughs and sparks up and fag.

"I'm sorry, just wanted to give you a fright!" He's still laughing.

"Not funny Mr. Cumberbatch!"

"Why are you so late?!"

"Bumped into a friend, and the traffic was bad. I was going to leave you a message, but I didn't want to disturb you." He says with a grin.

You pull the limp fag out of his mouth and take a draw from it before placing it back between his lips. He smiles sexily as you reach down to hold his hand.

"Come on, I'm freezing." He says as he leads you back to his jag.

You get in and realise he's already eaten. The car smells of take out.

"Could open a window you know?" You bluntly tell him as he lowers the driver's side and a cold air blows in.

You soon arrive home and he opens the car door for you.

"M'lady." He says as he bows slightly.

You just shake your head at his silly gesture. As you get out your legs feel slightly more like jelly than they did before the commute.

"Are you drunk?!" He exclaims. Knowing fully that you are a little bit.

You shush him as he unlocks the front door. As soon as you are both inside you push him up against the wall and pursue your attack on his mouth.

"Bedroom. Now." You tell him as you take off your heels.

He leads the way. Holding your hand as you go. You know he's trying to steady your drunken arse.

As soon as you reach the room your hands go directly to his check shirt, you unbutton and discard of it across the room. Unknowingly to you, at the same time he unzips your dress and it pools around your ankles.

You are stood there in just your underwear and yet he remains in his jeans, socks and shoes.

"You're wearing too much clothes." You say to him, undoing his trousers.

He places his hands over yours and removes them. He tells you to get into bed and continues to undress himself. You slip under the covers and watch him strip down to his boxer-briefs which exclaim 'playboy' around the waistband. You thought they would be funny on him when you bought them.

He takes them off and walks over to the bed. Slipping under the covers he comes to join you. Soon afterwards his tall frame is covering you and you can feel his unmistakable excitement press up against your inner thigh.

It was no lie that he was a perfectly formed 'grower not a show-er' but boy, did he know how to use it.

Soon enough you are whispering sweet nothing's into his ear as you both approach your peak. He never fails to satisfy.

You don't know how much time has passed but eventually you both lie in post coital bliss. His hair is slightly sweaty as you lazily trace patterns on his chest.

"I need a cig." He exclaims as he walks over to his jeans pocket and pulls out a box.

You watch his naked ass as he walks over the window; which is well placed at over waist height. He opens the blinds and leans out of the window as he lights up his cigarette.

And shortly after the sound of the passing by cars and the noise of the rain merge into one as you drift off to sleep. You don't witness it, but he joins you in bed later. He lies behind you, pressing his body close to yours, enveloping the radiating head. He joins you in slumber after not too long.


End file.
